Maybe the cat was black
by Gingerfalcon
Summary: It was just one of those days, they spent together. Or even not. Maybe the cat was black. One-shot UsuK/UkUs/FrUk


Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or Hetalia although I own the plot.

Author's note: Heya guys, I hope you enjoy this story although I warn you it's not a happy ending. :( Don't blame me I didn't plan this, it just kida turned out this way. Enjoy ;)

It was a very pleasant evening, one of those spent with the stupid, loud American who I loved and needed like air but would never admit. Although sometimes I wish I had.

"Ooh Arthur look! There goes the Superman!" He pumped his fist into the air, yelling, "Truth, Justice ... and all that stuff..." We were watching the Superman film -obviously- Alfred's favourite, tangled up under a warm blanket with bowls of popcorn in our laps, fingers greasy of the butter. I rolled my eyes at Alfred's excitement, always such a child he was. "Alfred, did you know that Superman had a bet with Chuck Norris that the loser will wear underwear on top of his pants?" I teased, I loved to tease him.  
>Alfred threw a sarcastic grin. "Oh, Arthur.." He covered his mouth with a hand dramatically, "Was that a joke? Don't you have a fever or something?" He moved his hand to touch my forehead but I smashed it away. "Stop it." I mumbled looking back to the screen and blushing slightly, gaining a giggle from the other. Then he snuggled against my chest, getting engrossed by the movie again. I didn't really care about Superman and the whole thing, I was more focused on the messy blonde hair pressed against my chest. I was watching Alfred closely, without him even noticing. I had very strange feelings welling up in me. I was regarding his face as if I wanted to print it into my memory, to remember every mesmerizing detail of his facial and body features. How the blue seas and skies in his eyes mirrored every emotion bubbling inside, how his golden strands fell perfectly just over the eyebrows, not an inch longer. And how that one curl of his, never obeying to lay down. The frames of his Ray bans pinched onto his nose, falling just slightly when he lowered his head. The muscular arms wrapped about my waist, hard chest against mine, so warm, so reassuring, so safe... so perfect.<br>I just wasn't sure why I was doing it. Remembering it all.

That's how we spent the evening, cuddled in a dimly lit room, in the end falling asleep on the soft couch.  
>...<p>

Streams of hot water were splashing onto my face, steam creating little clouds around me. I was standing in a shower, with my eyes shut, trying to clear my mind. Alfred was still asleep, now on the bed as I forced him to move there the night before, when he started to be too heavy on my ribcage.  
>I reached for a shampoo and tried to squeeze something out when I heard some noise. Alfred was probably awake already, rummaging around to find the Italian coffee maker. He could never remember where he'd put it.<br>Finally I managed to extract some remains of the hair shampoo and I ran my fingers through the blonde mess, then massaged it to make a foam. Again, I closed my eyes. I felt my whole body relax under the stream of hot water.  
>Suddenly I heard a loud bang of a window being slammed shut. Then I heard Alfred. He was shouting something and from his speech being muted by the bathroom door, I managed to make up something about some cat and something about his hero moment. I shrugged it off as his usual airy-fairy nonsense and just continued showering. I was wondering about the day-to-come. We were planning to go out for a picnic in the nearby park. Actually I was looking forward to it.<p>

With a towel sprawled loosely about my hips I went indifferently for the bedroom door to change.  
>I opened the closet door and pulled out the usual pieces of clothing. Dark jeans, dark blue shirt and green vest. While putting it on, I noticed a strange thing. There was a rare silence everywhere. I paused in buttoning up my shirt.<p>

"Alfred?" I called, receiving no response.

Maybe he's just playing on hide-n-seek again, I thought.

After finishing putting on the clothes I went to kitchen. Again, there was this strange silence. My gut twisted in a bad anticipation. I ignored it and went for the kettle to make some tea. Then I heard it. The sound of sirens tearing through the deafening silence. The ambulances were a customary here in the busy part of London, but this time something dragged me to the window. When I looked out, at first I couldn't see what was happening because of a huge tree right in front of me. I went to bedroom to get a better view. I pulled myself out of the window a bit... and at that moment I could swore all blood drained from my body. I was standing there like if I was struck by lightning. Unable to move, to speak, to breathe, to think... And then that one part of my brain that usually saves your life, with the sense of self-preservation, screamed in my head. Screamed loud, clear, desperate word.

_Run_.

I did not take a moment to hesitate. I stumbled away from the window and ran. Ran for dear life. Out of the door, down the stairs and out on the street. Crowd of people was already gathering, the lights of ambulances cutting through the morning air like a beacon in the night. Only not with the positive meaning. I didn't know where I was going. Blood was rushing in my ears, making me being immune to the sounds around me. I pushed through the crowd and people were stepping aside when they recognized me. They knew me, of course they knew me. As they knew the person laying still on the hard concrete surrounded by a team of medics. I stopped dead in my tracks when I reached it.

No.

No.

No. No way. No, no... "NO!" I screamed, not even realizing it. And no one opposed. They only looked at me with understanding and pitiful eyes.  
>I couldn't believe it. This couldn't be... no. I forced my legs to move and to push through the medics.<br>The golden hair were unmistakable. As well as the glasses even though they were now cracked and his beautiful blue eyes closed. He didn't seem to move, to breathe. I couldn't sense the world around me. The only thing I saw was Alfred's crumpled body on the ground, in his pajamas, soaked in blood, only thing I heard was my heart thumping weakly and the screams inside my head, the only thing I felt were some strong hands pulling me away. I felt numb. Nevertheless, I tried to rip off the grasp of the unknown hands. I had to touch him. Maybe he's still alive. Maybe, just maybe there's still even the smallest spark of life in him. Perhaps he's just sleeping and I could go and kiss him and he would wake up like a princess in the fairytales... But all my hopes crashed on the simple shake of head of one of the medics. My vision blurred then blacked and I fell to the ground, next to the love of my life, my angel, my reason to live, the light bulb in the dark that was now broken. And so the darkness swallowed me. I blacked out and crumpled on the cold stone.

...

"_Hey, Arty. Art. Arthur..." A voice came calling softly through a damp, crispy air. I didn't know where I was, I still felt very numb and empty. I was walking somewhere, even though the place was completely unknown to me. The fog was everywhere, it was very thick, I could feel it on my skin condensate into small drops of water. Although the fog made it very hard to see, I could make out dark trees towering upon me, bordering the path I was following. The eerie atmosphere felt familiar. _

"_Aaarthuur, where are you?" the voice called out again, still soft and weak. _

_Suddenly, a gravestone appeared from the fog. I couldn't read the names, but I could make out the dates. 1066, 1337, 1455, 1642, 1775, 1814, 1939... It didn't make sense. I didn't know what these numbers meant and still, they felt familiar. I stopped at the last one. There was some paper pinned on to it, flickering in the wind. It was very worn and already faded but I could see some rather old man in the middle with a cylinder and white hair, pointing a finger on me. I was about to bend closer to it to read the words written above him, when all of a sudden the fog parted and revealed a figure standing beside me._

"_Well, finally, Arthur! I was looking for you everywhere!" I jumped at the sudden bawl and the fact that I recognised the voice. Slowly, I straightened and looked at the pale face of the man. I gasped. He was beautiful as always, but there was something wrong. His eyes were lacking the usual spark, hair dirty, his shirt covered in... blood. My eyes widened at the realisation. I opened my mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Alfred grinned. "Don't overdo yourself Arty. I'll be okay." The grin turned into a soft smile. "In the end, I'm the hero. I can look after you." He winked and turned to walk away. After few steps he stopped. "You know, it's not your fault. You shall not blame yourself for we are creatures too small to step in a way of fate. " he added but did not turn. "What is there for us to do when the universe decides for a plot twist? You shall not question it. Over thinking kills your happiness." My heart twitched at his words. I was left confused. I watched as he started to walk away and into the fog. Again I opened my mouth to shout after him, to stop him, to question him, I wanted answers. But again, no sound came out. I wanted to move but found my feet glued to the ground. All of a sudden the ground beneath me slowly started to sink. I could do nothing to stop it. Gradually, it dragged me in, engulfed me. First my ankles, then my knees, my waist, chest, arms, neck... The last thing I saw before the dirt swallowed the rest of my body, was Alfred's broad back disappear in the distance._

...

I woke up covered in sweat, shivering and disoriented. The room around me wasn't familiar at first but then I recognised my living room. My vision was still a little bit blurred and as I tried to move, I shrieked in pain.

"Oh, you're awake." A tall figure came upon me. "You shouldn't make so sudden moves, you hit your head pretty bad. Then, with a sigh, the man sat in a beanbag, next to the couch (it was Alfred's favourite). With that thought, it all dawned on me. Images flooded my mind, tears welled up in my eyes. I bit my lips but a sob escaped them. Francis looked my way, his eyes filled up with sadness.

"Ah, Arthur. I am so sorry." His voice broke. I felt a big lump tightening my throat. Again, my breath hitched and I was no longer able to stop the violent sobbing. I broke down.

Francis stood up and sat on the couch next to me. "Ohh, Arthur, cher~" He reached a hand and wiped my cheeks gently. I had my eyes squeezed shut and the smooth fingers felt strange on my face. Anger started to bubble inside me.

"Don't touch me." I muttered under breath. He froze.

"Pardon me?"

"I said, don't touch me, frog!" Now I was yelling, my eyes wide open, anger flooding me. He hesitated but pulled away in the end, however with a concerned expression on his face. "Arthur I-"

"NO!" I cut him off. "I don't need your pity, I don't need your condolences, I don't need you to comfort me AND you have no right to call me your fucking cher." I literally spit the words into his face.

"I didn't say-"

"Get out, Francis." Tiredness was reaching my insides. I needed to be alone. I felt sick, angry and worn out.

"You took me away from him. You didn't let me touch him one last time." I hissed.

"Arthur I-"

"You're not welcomed here." My facial expression went rigid and hard. Francis pursed his lips and his shoulders fell. Then he stood up and glanced at me before turning to leave.

"I'll be here if you need me." He said firmly and left.

"Dammit, I don't need you, you bloody Frenchman." Even though I said it, I wasn't sure if I fully meant it. In the end I did need someone. It just wasn't the right moment, at least not yet. Now I needed to be alone. To sink into my grief, to get drunk and break things around me. To accept. To let go. Maybe after that... I would be able to think about letting other people to care for me. Just not now.

I rolled on my side and curled up with the blanket. Tears were flooding my cheeks until I cried myself to sleep.

After all I guess he was right. Sometimes the stars cross and sometimes they crash. And over thinking kills your happiness.

...

The day before the accident we were talking about cats. What an irony. He swore he would save a cat from a tree one day, that it was on his hero budget list or something. I shrugged it off, of course I hadn't known that such an innocent act could have brought such grief.  
>He ran off that day, shouting something about his hero-moment and was gone before I could've stopped him. Later I learnt there was a cat on a tree in front of our apartment. Maybe he felt obliged to his swear. I wonder if anything would've been different now, if I hadn't been in a shower at that moment. But I guess I shall not question the decisions of the universe.<p>

Fin.


End file.
